


Call Me Dany

by imperial_queen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 12:57:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20135827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperial_queen/pseuds/imperial_queen
Summary: Sansa Stark keeps almost spilling drinks on Daenerys Targaryen. It's really quite embarrassing, but Daenerys doesn't seem to mind.





	Call Me Dany

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mithrilstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrilstarlight/gifts).

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRIEND! (I realise I'm posting this a day late oops)  
Also many thanks to the numerous people who read this through for me!

Sansa Stark was not expecting to bump into Daenerys Targaryen in the Costa on campus, but that was exactly what happened one day in the middle of December. Sansa was in the middle of a mad dash from a 9am lecture she’d given to a nearly empty lecture theatre of first year History students to a two-hour seminar for her final year History students, and desperately needed coffee. The finalists were aware that she would show up late, she’d been honest with them in the first week when she’d explained that she had the first year lecture immediately before their class, and no, for some stupid reason, the timetable could not be altered _at all_. It was very vexing.

Sansa was in such a rush that when she turned around with her cappuccino, she was not expecting one of the world’s best human rights lawyers, and her cousin’s aunt, to be stood _right behind her_, and barely managed to save her drink from going all over Daenerys Targaryen’s lovely suit.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry,” she said, shoving napkins into Daenerys’ hands. “Did I spill anything on you? I hope I didn’t, I didn’t see you there at all.”  
“It’s fine,” Daenerys took the napkins from Sansa. “I’m sure you didn’t spill a drop, and even if you did, one drop of coffee isn’t a disaster.” Sansa was nodding along, not paying attention to what was going on behind her, so when a tall, burly student pushed past her to get to the door to the patio, she didn’t move out of the way quickly enough. Sansa’s cappuccino ended up on the floor, her shoes and Daenerys’ shoes and Sansa ended up leaning on Daenerys to steady herself.

As soon as she’d stood up properly, she went to the counter and grabbed some more napkins and thrust them at Daenerys. “I’m so sorry, again! I should be more aware of my surroundings,” she said, “Please let me make it up to you.” Her watch beeped. “But later, I’m late for a class now. My name is—”  
“Sansa Stark, I know, Jon’s mentioned you. How about we get coffee or something together once your class finishes?”  
“Yes, that’d be good. I can meet you by...by… by… by the Pret downstairs in two hours?”  
“I’ll see you there,” Daenerys was smiling so Sansa decided to stress about ruined shoes later and headed off to her class.

The nine final year students thought her story was brilliant and forgave her for her lateness. One of them even let her have a bit of his coffee that he’d made before leaving the house in the morning.

* * *

Two hours later, Sansa headed from the small room where she’d conducted the seminar, promising the students she’d see them for their next class a few days later. She headed for the _Pret à Manger_ opposite the library, hoping Daenerys would be stood outside, that it wouldn’t be too busy, that she wouldn’t look like an idiot standing around the University Atrium for ages if Daenerys were unable to meet her. Sansa just wanted to find out if she needed to buy Daenerys new shoes, and how much her bank account would suffer if that was the case.

She walked into the Atrium, and saw Daenerys entering through the doors at the opposite end, her mobile phone held up to her ear. Sansa didn’t quite run across the Atrium to meet Daenerys, knowing that she had slightly further to walk than the lawyer. Dodging students gathered in groups in the _most _awkward places, discussing their next lectures, their assignments or even where they would be going out that evening, Sansa briefly lost sight of the silver-haired woman, before she skirted around a group of very tall young men all dressed in rugby stash, and saw Daenerys stood by the _Pret_, still on the phone.

As Sansa approached, Daenerys seemed to huff, before moving her phone away from her ear and pressing a button, presumably to hang up. She turned towards Sansa and smiled, walking towards Sansa, and held out her hand as Sansa arrived.

“Sorry I’m late, my students had even more questions than usual today,” Sansa said, “you’d have thought the use of songs in medieval Westerosi courts was the most interesting thing in the world for a bunch of 20-year-olds, rather than clubbing, or whatever they all have planned for the end of term.”  
“Ah yes, I remember those days well. I did read your book about how some songs were used as a way of inspiring respect in certain lords,” Daenerys replied. Sansa blinked. “I’m sorry?”  
“It was a fascinating book, don’t apologise! Very different from the usual sort of thing I read.”  
“I didn’t realise anyone else was interested in that rather… _niche_… bit of history,” Sansa said, struggling to wrap her head around one of the world’s most successful human rights lawyers having read her book.   
“Yes, it made me realise that I was correct in my choice of career, no matter how interesting I find that particular aspect of history,” Daenerys said, “I’d never have managed all the research, let alone translating from the various medieval languages you managed. I did thoroughly enjoy reading it though, and I was never more thankful that Jon told me all about you and his other cousins.”  
“I hope he didn’t tell you anything bad,” Sansa asked, trying to remember if Jon had mentioned his aunt to her and the others during their time together as children. “Perhaps we should grab some food, and then continue this conversation somewhere quieter? Or at least sat down,” she added.  
“As the native to this university, would you recommend anywhere in particular?”  
“It depends on the type of food you want, the campus pub probably has the most variety, but the café in the Princess Elia Building probably has the best quality bagels and soups and things I’ve ever seen,” Sansa said, trying to think where her students would absolutely _not_ be. And where Margaery wouldn’t be. Margaery would never let Sansa forget that she’d spilled coffee on a guest, and if she found out they’d had lunch together, Sansa would never get a moment’s quiet again.

“The café sounds good,” Daenerys said, and Sansa looked to see the smile on her face, “I’d love to continue the conversation about medieval song conventions!”  
“Only if you tell me whether I need to replace your shoes,” Sansa countered, “it’s been bothering me for the last two hours.”  
“These? I have three or four pairs exactly like them at home,” Daenerys said, looking down at her feet, “My late husband could never seem to buy me anything other than these or riding boots when we’d argued, and they’re convenient and go with almost every outfit I own, so I don’t have to think too hard when I’m getting dressed in the morning.” Sansa didn’t hide her sigh of relief, and Daenerys laughed as the two of them set off for the café.

“I spent far too much on books this month and didn’t want to think about what replacement shoes would do to my bank account,” she admitted, and Daenerys laughed again.  
“Honestly, don’t worry, and I’m sure I would feel exactly the same were I in your shoes,” she paused, “I think there was a clever joke there, but it might be too soon.”  
“If I were in your shoes, I would say that it is definitely too soon,” Sansa agreed, and was rewarded with another of Daenerys’ laughs. She was finding that each time Daenerys laughed, the world felt brighter, even if the grey clouds outside told a different story.

The two of them continued talking as they walked through the Atrium. The short walk to the Princess Elia Building went fine, with Daenerys asking more about Sansa’s research, while Sansa struggled to come up with anything intelligent to say in response to the other woman’s questions.

“Why didn’t you do the History Bachelor’s, Master’s and PhD instead of me? You’re so passionate about this, it feels like you could give _me _lessons!”  
“I am an amateur historian, nothing more. And I wanted to help people,” Daenerys said, holding the door open for Sansa, “I didn’t feel like I could help people in the same way if I were a historian.” The two of them ducked inside (almost literally in Sansa’s case) just as the heavens opened.

“Well, that was good timing,” Daenerys said as they joined the queue, looking out of the glass doors at the torrent of rain and the puddles that were already forming on the terrace. “Yeah, apparently so,” Sansa replied, “do you know what you want? I can always buy it and you can go grab one of the free tables, if you want. There’ll probably be a flood of students any minute now, searching for lunch and a place to study.”  
“That’s a good idea.” Daenerys stood on her tiptoes to see the menu. “The carrot and coriander soup sounds fantastic, if you wouldn’t mind! And a latte please.”  
“It’s not problem, I’ll be along with them in a minute.” Sansa watched as Daenerys made her way to the sofas on the other side of the room and found an empty one with a small table. Sansa hoped that no student came and sat with them, praying that the usual end of term trend would have set in and that all but the final years would have returned home by this point.

“Hi, what can I get you?” the café worker said, and Sansa turned her attention to the order and then carrying her small pile of food and coffees to the table Daenerys had chosen without falling over. She did not need to fall over in front of Daenerys Targaryen twice in one day. She would quite possibly die of embarrassment if she did, and then she would never live it down.

“Here you go,” she placed Daenerys’ soup down very careful, and then found the coffees removed from her hands as Daenerys helped her.  
“I almost got up to help you carry them back here, but you seemed to be managing.”   
“And you probably didn’t want me to spill coffee on you again.”  
“That too,” Daenerys was laughing again, and Sansa’s day continued to get better and better.

* * *

The next time Sansa saw Daenerys, the two of them were in Braavos. Sansa was officially on a research trip, checking some sources at the University of Braavos and preparing to start writing her next book, while also unofficially visiting her sister. Daenerys was dealing with a high-profile case and the newspapers were trying to get all the details of the case and Daenerys’ life, failing miserably at both.

Sansa was secretly hoping they’d bump into each other again but was highly aware of how unlikely that was. No matter how interesting or fun or wonderful the conversation she’d had with Daenerys had been that day on campus all those months ago, it was unlikely they’d ever just see each other again. Unless Sansa caved to Margaery’s teasing and asked Jon to arrange another meeting for them. Sansa resolutely refused to do that, because it would mean admitting to Jon, to Arya, to Margaery, to anyone other than herself, that the one conversation with Daenerys had had an impact _that_ profound upon her.

“Sansa?” Arya was poking her. “Are you okay?”  
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking. And a bit tired. But mostly thinking.” Sansa pushed her sister away.   
“Don’t do too much of that, you’ll waste whatever time we have together.” Arya poked her again.   
“Arya, stop!” Sansa slapped at Arya’s hand. “Is there something you want to go and do? Or did you eat too much sugar again?”  
“Both. Let’s go for a walk by the docks, that’ll stop you thinking too much and being like you were when we were kids. We can even take Nymeria.”  
“Fine.” Sansa knew she sounded a little grumpy, but now that Arya had had the idea, she was looking forward to the walk.

Braavos in summer was always too warm for Sansa, so warm that she wanted to find the nearest canal and just dive in. Despite the excessive number of canals in Braavos, Sansa had never actually dived into one, even if she had watched Arya do it countless times. She knew how little Arya cared for propriety and the cameras that occasionally found their way into their lives, usually whenever someone tried to make a documentary about the argument between the Targaryens and the Baratheons and the Starks decades ago, both before Sansa was born, and when she was a teenager. Sansa herself had retreated into academia and books and research multiple times because of the cameras. Her childhood and adolescence had been difficult enough, she didn’t want to relive them for an endless stream of documentaries. Being invisible and unfindable was easier for her than Arya’s responses to the camera, which involved either violence or shouting, or sometimes both.

The two of them walked along the docks, Nymeria roaming freely as Arya pointed out all the different boats that she’d either worked on or managed to sneak aboard in recent years, with the best stories that Arya could remember from each visit. It was then that Sansa saw a group of photographers and journalists gathered around a head of silver hair at the far end of the dock.

“Arya,” she said, grabbing her sister’s sleeve, “I think that’s Daenerys Targaryen.” Arya looked over to the crowd.  
“Okay, so what if it is?”  
“Well, that’s an awful lot of people surrounding her.”  
“Yeah?”  
“And we all know that Targaryens get angry very easily.” Sansa didn’t actually know if that was true of all Targaryens, Daenerys had seemed remarkably calm last time they’d met, and Jon almost never got angry, although everyone said that the Stark blood helped temper the Targaryen temper. Given Aunt Lyanna’s temper, Sansa wasn’t so sure that that was true. 

Arya sighed and Sansa turned to her sister. She tried to make her face as similar to the enormous dogs they’d had growing up as possible, as close to Nymeria’s as possible, knowing that Arya couldn’t resist the puppy-dog-eyes.

“Fine,” Arya conceded, then whistled. Sansa waited for the screams.   
“I’m sure there was a less terrifying way to do this.”  
“None of them are as fun, though!” Arya replied, grinning from ear to ear as her enormous dog sprinted from where she had been making friends with all the sailors on one of the many boats Arya had pointed out. The dog didn’t try to avoid people and knocked over some unsuspecting sailors as she raced towards the crowd, barking as loud as she could.

The photographers froze in the face of the dog bounding towards them. Sansa saw Daenerys’ distinctive silver hair duck away from the crowd of photographers just before Nymeria pounced on one, and Sansa knew that the poor photographer would be on the receiving end of a very thorough bath.

“Go and find your friend. I’ll help Nymeria distract them until you’re safely away.” Arya gave Sansa a push in the direction Daenerys had gone, before running towards the photographers. Sansa nodded, already walking towards the narrow street where she thought Daenerys was.

“Daenerys?” she asked, reaching out to touch the silver-haired woman’s shoulder.  
“Yes?” Daenerys turned around, still breathing hard from her escape, but she started smiling as soon as she realised it was Sansa. “Oh! It’s you!”  
“Yes, and the dog that might have saved you is my sister’s.” Sansa stood there awkwardly. “We thought you looked a little crowded.”  
“I was getting a little fed up, it’s been a long week.” Daenerys ran a hand through her hair.  
“Do you want to go get coffee? And not worry about reporters or work or anything for a bit?”  
Daenerys blinked. “That…would actually be really nice,” she said, taking Sansa’s hand and heading further down the street. “Do you know anywhere nice?”  
“Not really, I don’t come to Braavos very often,” Sansa admitted.   
“Oh, that’s okay! I know somewhere we can go that’s really cute.” Daenerys started pulling Sansa in a different direction, her face lit up with a big smile that made Sansa’s heart melt.

The coffee shop that Daenerys took them to was small and out of the way, on a small side street next to a craft shop on one side, and a pet store on the other. There were only a handful of people in the coffee shop, and the barista looked up as Daenerys pushed the door open. Inside, it was filled with old wooden benches and tables, with occasional small round tables in the corners with stools next to them.

“Do you have a preference when it comes to coffee? Or would you like me to surprise you?” Daenerys asked. Sansa chewed on her lip as she thought, looking at the list of drinks behind the bar.  
“Surprise me, everything on the menu sounds so good,” she replied, “and you _are_ the one who’s been here before.”  
“Okay! Go find a seat and I’ll be along in a minute.” Daenerys turned towards the counter and went to speak to the barista while Sansa took a seat at one of the tables in the corner.

Sansa spent the time she was waiting trying to piece together why this must be one of Daenerys’ favourite coffee shops in Braavos. It didn’t seem to match at all with the personality the lawyer showed to the press, but did reflect more of the quiet, amateur historian that Sansa had spent hours talking to months ago. It was small and quiet but was also in one of the oldest surviving bits of Braavos, and Sansa had spotted a street filled with book shops on the way here.

The music that was playing softly throughout the shop reminded Sansa of the music she’d originally come to Braavos to research. Sansa grabbed her notebook from her bag and began scribbling some notes that she might want to explore later, when she was back in the library at Braavos University. She didn’t stop writing and drawing until a soft thud drew her away from her notebook, and she saw Daenerys settling in a chair, two enormous mugs with cream on top in front of her.

“Sorry, I got distracted by the music. It gave me a few ideas for my research,” she said, feeling her face heat.   
“It’s fine, it’s part of the reason I love this café so much. The owner’s family has lived in Braavos for so long, they still know a lot about the culture from centuries ago. I think this track was a family friend’s recording, when he found some music and an instrument in an attic somewhere.”  
“That’s incredible! I should probably contact them to see if they can help me,” Sansa scribbled down the contact details on the small menu in front of her and then put her notebook away.

Daenerys pushed Sansa’s drink towards her. “Are you in Braavos to do some research? Or to visit your sister?”  
“Both. I’m using the research as a way to see Arya, although I haven’t actually spent a huge amount of time with her yet.”  
“I feel like I should apologise for that,” Daenerys started, looking slightly guilty but Sansa reached around the coffees to take hold of Daenerys’ hands and interrupted her.  
“No, Arya enjoys messing around with photographers and journalists like that. I’ll catch up with her this evening, anyway,” Sansa insisted, then realised that what she’d done and moved her hands to her mug as she felt her face heat. She had to remind herself not to get too familiar, no matter how much she liked Daenerys.

“What are you researching?” Daenerys asked, “You mentioned that the music here might be able to help you?”  
“Yes, it’s reminiscent of the medieval tradition that was influenced by some of the Westerosi styles. Or the Braavosi style influenced the Westerosi one. That’s what I’m trying to find out. And why I’m here. You can’t really research Braavosi music traditions in Westeros.”  
“I would agree with you there. I look forward to reading your next book when it comes out,” Daenerys said.  
“I have to write it first,” Sansa replied. She took a sip of her hot chocolate. “Oh! This is fantastic!”  
“I’m so glad you like it!” Daenerys’ smile widened even more.   
“It’s fantastic! How did you find this place?”  
“When we lived here when I was little, I would come here after school with a friend to avoid my brother. He was so angry that it was just easier to stay out of the house for as long as possible. It’s not changed at all since then, and I do love it here. I have for years.”  
“How long did you live in Braavos for?”  
“Only a few years, but I always make an effort to come and have coffee here whenever I’m in Braavos. I’ve not yet managed to introduce any of my friends or family to it, though. You’re the first.” It thrilled Sansa to know that only she and Daenerys had been to this coffee shop, of their acquaintances and family, and part of her wanted to keep it as a secret for the two of them.

She took another sip of her drink, and then was surprised when one of the baristas came over with two slices of cake for them. The chocolate one was placed in front of Daenerys, and in front of Sansa, a slice of what smelled like lemon cake. She looked at Daenerys, knowing that her surprise was showing on her face.

“How did you know?” she asked, looking from Daenerys to the cake in wonder.  
“Jon told me about your love of lemon cakes when I mentioned that we’d bumped into each other one time,” Daenerys admitted, picking up her fork, “I just had to hope you hadn’t changed your opinion on them since the two of you last saw each other.”  
“My love for lemon cakes will _never_ die,” Sansa declared, picking up her own fork and stabbing a piece of lemon cake. She was rewarded with another of Daenerys’ laughs, and viewed both the laugh and the lemon cake as a triumph.

* * *

Sansa’s return from Braavos was met with many hugs from her friends, and then a great deal of teasing from Margaery once she said she’d had another coffee with Daenerys Targaryen. The teasing got even worse when Margaery found Sansa had multiple tabs of news articles about Daenerys’ career open on her browser.

“You should get your cousin to arrange another meeting so you can ask her out,” Margaery said at lunch one day, face completely serious. “I’ve never seen you act like this about _anyone_, so you might as well try and see if she’s interested.”  
“But what if she’s not, Marge?” Sansa objected. “Then I might have ruined a perfectly good friendship.”  
“Yes, but what if she is?”  
“As far as I’m aware, she’s not interested in women. You know she’s been married a few times, right?”  
“Yes, and I admire the way her divorce didn’t get in the way of her career. I should ask for tips,” Margaery said, thoughtfully, “but that doesn’t mean that she’s not interested in women. Or in you. She _does _surround herself with very pretty people in general, and you, Sansa Stark, are nothing if not incredibly pretty.” Sansa spluttered as Margaery laughed. “Oh, look! You’re blushing!”  
“Margaery Tyrell, you know very well that I blush at the slightest compliment. Or if I do something even vaguely embarrassing. A blush is not an uncommon thing for me.”  
“Point taken. But I think you probably blush more when Daenerys Targaryen is around than when anyone else is.”

“What’s this about Sansa blushing for Daenerys Targaryen?” Myrcella sat next to Sansa, turning her head to give Sansa a piercing look. Sansa sighed, pushing her plate away slightly so she could bury her head in her hands. “Sansa has had coffee with Daenerys _twice_ and each time she’s come away as happy as I’ve ever seen her,” Margaery said, “and I think she needs to ask the woman out, save herself all this angst and the stalking of the woman on newspaper websites when she _should_ be writing her book.”  
“Marge!” Sansa protested weakly. There wasn’t any dissuading Margaery when she was like this.   
“Hmmm…” Myrcella was pondering the situation. “Didn’t you say that Daenerys liked your first book?”  
“Yeah, so what?” Sansa said, lifting her head to give Myrcella a wary look.   
“Well, you could just dedicate your next book to her. That’d tell her that you like her.”  
Sansa blinked and then shook her head, “I’ve promised to dedicate my next book to my siblings. Mum and Dad got the first one, so Robb and Arya and Bran and Rickon get the second one.”  
“So? Just dedicate the third one to them,” Margaery said.  
“I won’t get any lemon cakes from any of them for a year if I betray them,” Sansa pointed out, “and you know how much I love lemon cakes.”  
“Then just ask her out,” Myrcella said.   
“I don’t know when or if I’ll ever see her again.”  
“Get Jon to interfere,” Myrcella was possibly more relentless than Margaery.  
“That’s what I said!” Margaery and Myrcella were both aiming pointed looks in her direction.  
“No!” Sansa said, a little more loudly than she’d intended to, “the last time a family member interfered in my dating life, it didn’t go very well, and I don’t want to risk repeating that, no matter the intentions of the family members involved.”  
“I think it’s more than unfair of you to compare Daenerys to my brother,” Myrcella said quietly.   
“I…yes, that was unfair of me,” Sansa agreed, “but if something is going to happen between me and Daenerys, I don’t want it to be because I got Jon to help.”  
Margaery sighed. “You like her, but you won’t ask her out, or get your cousin to set the two of you up. You’d better hope life has a few miracles in store for you both.”  
“I know,” Sansa replied. She picked up her empty plate and left it with the rest of the dirty dishes and went back to her office to try and get some work done.

* * *

Jon’s wedding was one of the most ridiculous events Sansa had been to in years. There were Targaryens, Starks, Martells and Free Folk, those from the far north who barely seemed to pay attention to what was happening in the rest of the country, carefully avoiding each other, and the odd Tyrell who’d somehow managed to swing an invite. An argument was the last thing anyone wanted. Sansa, defying everyone’s expectations, had decided not bring a plus one. It wasn’t worth the interrogation she’d get from her family members, and she was perfectly happy sat with Arya on the edge of the crowd.

Jon himself was being mobbed by his new family members, the ones who’d sat on Ygritte’s side of the aisle during the ceremony, even if none of them looked enough like Ygritte to be genetically related, they acted like the kind of family Sansa had had growing up, the one Jon had been denied by his Targaryen relatives, except for a brief few weeks each year. From everything he’d said on his visits to them with Aunty Lyanna as a child, the Targaryens had been a divided family that prided itself on seeming like the complete opposite, even if half of them had grown up on the other side of the Narrow Sea.

Sansa was scanning the crowd for any silver hair she could find, hoping to find Daenerys. She denied that she wanted anything other than a catch up to Arya, but she hoped that if she did see Daenerys again, she’d make her laugh. That would be enough for Sansa to count the day as a success.

“Drink?” Robb waved a fairly full glass of _something_ in front of Sansa, blocking her view of the crowd. She took the glass and then tried to shove him out of the way, unsuccessfully. “Sansa? You okay?”  
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just looking for someone.”  
“Is it the mysterious someone Margaery’s been itching to tell me about for months?”  
“Robb!” Sansa stood up, proving that she was taller than her brother (thanks to the heels) and loomed over him. “I didn’t interfere when you decided to start dating my co-worker. Extend the same courtesy to me or face the consequences.” Robb’s face went white, and Sansa was glad that some of her childhood pranks hadn’t been forgotten. Just because she hadn’t been as persistent as Arya didn’t mean she hadn’t been a dutiful sibling in that regard. She turned to Arya to see her smiling widely, and approvingly, up at Sansa.

Sansa turned on her heel and strode away from her siblings. She was so busy ensuring that she walked away with the poise and stature that her mother had instilled in her that she did not notice someone walking right in front of her, and almost knocked them both onto the ground. In fact, it was only a steady hand from the other person, and even better balance, that made sure they didn’t end up in a pile of limbs and heels and drinks.

“Good evening.” Sansa looked down to see Daenerys smiling up at her and blinked in surprise. “I was hoping to see you here.”  
“Will we ever meet without me almost spilling a drink on you?” Sansa asked, stepping back slightly so she was no longer in Daenerys’ personal space. Daenerys laughed, and Sansa felt her own mouth pull into a smile.   
“Depends on whether you ever look where you’re going,” Daenerys replied, “come with me, let’s have a seat and catch up. Those shoes look amazing, but I bet they hurt like the one of seven hells.”  
“Oh, all of them, actually,” Sansa said, following Daenerys to a table.

Once they were both seated, and Sansa’s glass was carefully placed on the table, Daenerys shifted her seat slightly closer to Sansa’s. Sansa felt her face heat, while Daenerys explained that she didn’t want them to be shouting over the noise of the other guests. Sansa quickly took a large gulp of drink, and immediately regretted when the large amount of alcohol caused a coughing fit.

“Of course this would be Robb’s revenge,” she muttered, grabbing a napkin to clean up any stray bits of drink.   
“Revenge?” Daenerys asked, a smile playing at her lips.  
“Yeah, my brother’s still trying to get revenge for the one time I managed to get him blackout drunk years ago. He hasn’t succeeded yet, but only because I usually get my own drinks, and he promised Jon he’d behave this evening.”  
“Jon had his half-siblings promise the same,” Daenerys said, and although she was smiling, Sansa suspected it was slightly more forced than it had been a few seconds earlier.   
“You and your brothers don’t get along, right?” Sansa asked. “I’m sorry if I upset you, we can discuss something else if you prefer.”  
“No, it’s fine.” Daenerys looked down at her hands. “I love both of my brothers, but Viserys was difficult to grow up with, and Rhaegar is so much older than I am that we haven’t ever really gotten along very well at all.” Out of impulse Sansa reached out to take Daenerys’ hand.   
“That’s their loss, for not trying to understand you better. You’re an amazing person, and you’ve accomplished so much more than either of them! You fix things, you help people, rather than causing problems!” In her periphery vision, Sansa saw that her outburst caused a few heads to turn in their direction, but what was important was that Daenerys looked up at her with an expression Sansa didn’t entirely understand.

“Let's not discuss my brothers tonight. This is supposed to be a happy occasion,” Daenerys said, and stood up, dragging Sansa with her. “Let's dance!”   
“I... yes! Of course!” Sansa said, following Daenerys. This was the culmination of dreams that she’d had for months but never actually believed would happen. She saw Arya give her an encouraging smile from the other side of the room, where she was still talking with Robb, and then she saw Robb’s face as he turned around and saw who Daenerys had just started dancing with. She ignored the shock on his face to look down at Daenerys, who met her eyes a moment later.

“My brothers won’t approve,” Daenerys said quietly.  
“I don’t think anyone in my family will either.”  
“Except your sister,” Daenerys pointed out and Sansa nodded.  
“Arya is an exception to most rules,” she conceded, and Daenerys laughed.  
“Much like Jon, I think.”  
“Arya prefers Jon to most of us, so that’s no surprise.” Daenerys gave her a questioning look and Sansa shook her head. “I thought we had decided not to discuss things that might dampen the mood, Daenerys,” Sansa reminded her.  
“Have I never told you to call me Dany?” Sansa shook her head. “Well, please call me Dany. Daenerys is what Rhaegar calls me. Or judges. Mostly Rhaegar, though.”  
“Dany it is, then,” Sansa replied, and adjusted the dance she and Daenerys were doing for the change in music. This one was slower, more romantic, and Sansa hoped nobody was trying to interfere.

The two of them danced together in what felt like a comfortable silence, to Sansa anyway, until the song ended, and one Sansa _hated_ came on next. She didn’t hate many songs, but this one reminded her of the most difficult period of her life, and she led Dany away from the dancefloor.

“You can go back if you want,” she said, “but I’d appreciate it if you stayed with me while I try not to cry during this song. Bad memories.” Sansa could feel the tears welling up and blinked them back as Dany said something and steered them towards a table. Sansa sat down in a chair with a thump and rested her arms on the table and then lay her head on them. Dany gave her a hug and then started rubbing her back, not saying anything. The lack of questions was something Sansa was grateful for, because she didn’t want to talk about the past, and she hated that some things still made her feel like this. She knew it wasn’t her fault though. She lifted her head when Dany’s hand moved from her back, and found the Targaryen looking at her.

“Whatever it is you need, I will always be here for you, Sansa Stark,” she said, her gaze intense, “and what I think you need right now is a kiss.”  
“I – what?” Sansa was gobsmacked.  
“I would like to kiss you, if you don’t mind,” Dany repeated as Sansa blinked at her in surprise. When she’d finally absorbed what the other woman had said to her, she nodded, still dumbfounded.

Daenerys leaned forward and gave Sansa a small kiss, and then leaned back. “How would you feel about dinner sometime?”  
“Like a date?” Sansa asked nervously.  
“Exactly like a date.”  
“I would love to.”  
“Excellent.” Daenerys grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from her bag and scribbled on it. “Here’s my number, text me when you know what days you’re free.”


End file.
